Nine TwiLives
by Sinvisigoth
Summary: A girl, her cat and one damned sexy vampire. Bella is kidnapped for the most bizarre reason possible, channels Forrest Gump, sings Blue Grass, pees in a bucket and bumps into Peter. And damn he has nice pecs.
1. Chapter 1

**Having switched my love of all things fic from AVP to Twilight in the last few months, I'm posting a Bellafied version of Nine Lives as I'm an attention whore who loves making people laugh and wants to amuse a whole new fanbase. **

**Story starts four months after Edward's departure in New Moon. All canon assumed up to the point of him leaving. From that point forwards….fuckery, total and utter fuckery. By me. Because I am a twisted, malevolent and puckish sonofabitch.**

**Nine Twi-Lives** _by Sinvisigoth_

**Bella Pov**

_**Personal log**__. Stardate Fuckday the Fourth. Time and place: Unknown. Status: Wet, cold, single, with an aching heart, and pissed off. Really, dreadfully pissed off._

You know, this whole kidnapping deal is totally underrated. For starters, you get to sleep for hours at a time without having to do any chores. You never have to cook because your food is brought to you. You don't have to make awkward conversation with a bunch of dumbasses due to the gag in your mouth. And it's the best way I ever found to give up smoking; seriously, I've been two days without a ciggie now and all the time I'm spending trying to keep the circulation going in my arms is totally distracting me from my lack of nicotine.

Before you get the impression that my captors are brutes for gagging me, I should point out that it is somewhat my fault. I was, while somewhat anxious at my abduction, for the most part excited by this turn of events. Yes, I may end up with my severed head resembling the dessert from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, but would that really be worse than another morning dragging my ass to college classes I hated and pining for a vampire who left me in a fucking forest without so much as a by-your-leave? Decapitation by the hand of seasoned warrior vampires had to be less painful, I told myself, and tidier. All of these thoughts going round and round in my head had put me a kind of happy go lucky, screw it all, why not have some fun mood.

Under normal circumstances, I have a very pleasant singing voice; my best friend, Jacob, once told me that if I was in a room with the world's twenty best singers, I would not be the worst singer in the room. And I love him beyond words for that, the most beautiful truth anyone has ever told me. These circumstances not being normal by any standard, I chose to torture my kidnappers with Blue Grass sung in the voice of Daffy Duck…mostly to the tune of It's a Small World After All. They showed their great appreciation by silencing me with what looked like a pygmy's jock strap. Feeling around with my tongue, I had to admit that pygmies had a raw deal when it came to stereotypes; there was serious **room** in this thing.

**Two days earlier.**

I hadn't slept in my bed for months, that being where Deadward and I had spent most of our time together. Cuddling, I might add; I never got to find out if he actually had the requisite boy parts necessary to violate me in any of the many pleasant ways I envisaged on a daily basis. The sofa served my purposes admirably now, and with far greater comfort. This was not entirely due to depression and self loathing; my main problem was greed. A lot of people sell out by 'owning up' to having an addictive personality (everyone seems to love a recovering problematic these days). Dude, it's greed, pure and simple. Mine was for being awake; every time I slept I was forced to experience those few blurry seconds of waking where everything is just fine, those fleeting moments before you remember: that he's gone and not coming back; that the space where your lungs and heart should be hurts with the fire of a thousand suns; that you once saw Jacob naked and cannot, with any amount of meditation, voodoo or McDonalds, erase that image from your brain. You know, the usual. I spent as many of the twenty four hours in this manner as was possible, and then ended them on the sofa with a couple of films and a cat with a very fat butt. Falling asleep like that, my mind blurring the realms of reality and fantasy, snuggled under the softest blanket with the cutest companion…it was heaven. The nights I fell asleep to Disney, unfortunately, gave me nightmares beyond comparison and very soon Finding Nemo and Madagascar found their way onto ebay. Have you ever been chased through a forest by a large orange fish wielding a chainsaw made of seaweed? Then don't question, just accept.

I wish I could tell you that it had been my own keen senses that had alerted me to the fact that something was amiss. That my time spent with the Cullens had…honed me in some way. I can't. Ol' Boris Fat Butt sitting on my head and hissing like a fire extinguisher in heat was my first clue. Being levitated five feet off the sofa by the large, cold hand around my neck was the second. As the darkness crept into my vision, my last thought was something about chilli chicken tortillas. My first thought on waking up, while you would have thought it would have been 'Ow', was a momentary streak of panic aimed at Fat Butt. I say momentary because it rapidly became clear that the weight on my chest was not an instrument of death or torture but my lovely, big assed boy. He poked me in the nose.

_Mum, there's no food._

"Hmmph?" asked several parts of my anatomy. "Where are we, babe?"

_Somewhere they don't serve dinner. Whatcha gonna do about it?_

"Uh. How about you do something about the ropes and I'll look for some?" I said hopefully.

If the people who wrote dictionaries were honest, they'd have a picture of a cat next to the word 'asshole'. I looked away from his withering stare, contrite in my failure as universal provider and tried to ignore the fact that my own grumbling innards were in wholehearted agreement with him. For his part, he decided to take matters into his own hands and walked off, his high noon tail demonstrating his disappointment with an eloquent yet silent _'fuck you.'_ Boris was kind of the AntiJake. Selfish, unhelpful, rude to a fault, much less well defined and a whole lot more feline. Where his place in my aching heart was concerned, though…well, let's just say it's a good thing Jake had nothing against him and set no ultimatums. Honestly, if he'd ever forced me to choose between the two of them, my wolfman would have found himself howling at that particular full moon alone.

The closest I could figure, we were in some kind of engine room; the smell bore this theory out, as did the machinery, large in both proportion and noise pollution. The rocking motion encouraged my insides to vote firmly for 'boat'. After a few minutes I heard Boris scrabbling about in excitement behind a large pipe. Boris being Boris, this could mean anything from _Ooh, food!_ to _Hey mum, look, I've got a tail!_ I figured out which as a large beetle sped out from under a bulkhead, its freakish carapace glistening in the amber light as it thundered across the floor towards my helpless face.

At the last second a couple hundredweight of hungry feline pounced between my aggressor and I. A swift patpat and it bumbled off in another direction. More patpat and it started running in frantic circles.

_This thing is really dumb._ a bemused face all but rolled its eyes at me before continuing the hunt. _But crunchy._ he added a few seconds later with his mouth full.

_You want me to find you some? I heard loads of these little bastards back there._

"Thanks, I uh, think I'll pass." I managed weakly.

He shrugged as best he could and sauntered off. A small pause and he turned to face me again.

_Uh…Mum? Thundered?_

I think he got the gist of my glare and sauntered with a little more speed behind one of the machines in search of more critters.

This point would have been the perfect moment to pass out and get a little shuteye. Unfortunately, it was also the moment my captors chose to make an appearance. The introduction into my sphere of vision of three very big, very leather-wearing and very sword-carrying warriors turned out to be the real brain drainer. I did the only noble thing I could think of under the circumstances and passed out.

I think they may have been offended by this as a swift spate of poking brought me back to the place my addled brain had tried so desperately to escape. Looking from them to the machinery and back again gave me the first inkling that we may not be going on a short trip. They, for the most part, seemed to be arguing among themselves, their lips moving with superhuman speed and low hisses that I could not make out. About what I did not know but the added insult of being ignored on top of being kidnapped was too much.

"Hey assholes!"

As attention getting goes that one worked a treat. As bad ideas went it was way up there with dating deadboy and putting sugar in foods destined for five year olds that already had more energy than a nuclear power plant. My mind could have wandered off at this point to explore the advantages of plugging children into turbines as a cheap energy alternative but I was strong and remained single-mindedly focussed on being utterly petrified.

"Ooh, hey! Enough with the poking!" Pretty dumb to imagine that the big pointy swords did not serve any real purpose.

A particularly hard poke from one of them elicited a high squeak from me and all of a sudden there was one pissed off cat standing between me and them. And this is where my ego took the real bashing. Me they ignore and poke. Fat Butt they back away from. Although, in my defence, he had more pointy bits than they did and was advancing on them quicker than I could have shuffled.

As far as I could gather from his quick glance, his take on things was that yes, I might be a pain in the ass but I was _his_ pain in the ass and he would deal with me in his own way goddamnit. The three kidnappers (given my recent circumstances I am so in denial over using the word 'vampires' at this point) quickly found that their size was a disadvantage when dealing with a hacked off furball. He was quick, agile, and bloody difficult to hit with large weapons at close range. He shimmied up one of them and had a good go at tearing something off, resulting in some very satisfying shrieks. Leaping to another he managed to part a large dreadlock from its owner and then shot down the other one, shredding parts of its anatomy as he went. Who knew they weren't impervious to cats? Best news I've had all day. Boris sat down in front of them with his prize under one foot. And this is where they made the biggest mistake of all. Poking his human was enough to get him angry enough to attack, trying to take away his string sent him over the edge.

The warrior whose dreadlock it was stooped down to take it back and nearly lost a finger. You know that noise that cats make, that awful, awful sound halfway between a scream and a groan way down in their throats? Boris seemed to be making that with his whole body. His ears were so flat against his head they disappeared and he turned side on and rigid to make himself look bigger. Another attempt by the warrior (not-a-vampire-not-a-vampire-he's-just-vary-pale-coz-he-doesn't-sunbathe-much-and-his-friends-are-albinos-and…have eyes the colour of merlot..shitfuck) to retrieve his missing lock met with a vicious ball of fury wrapped around his wrist that he could not dislodge no matter what he did.

Watching a six and a half foot mythical creature running around the room like a little girl and squeaking like a mouse was funny enough to make me burst anyway. The added factor that I really had to pee just gave the experience a whole added dimension. I think going from terror to rolling around in fits if laughter is now officially my new favourite emotion. For his part, Fat Butt was so damn pleased with himself he didn't know what to do other than drop to the ground and drag his hard won new toy into a corner for safe keeping. He saucily sashayed back to the creatures and sat down in front of them with all the insolence he could muster. Considering that if he were a cocktail he'd most likely be called a Fuck-you-and-the-horse-you-rode-in-on, he didn't have to do a whole lot of mustering. The wounded party had had enough and lowered himself to roar in the face of my brave boy. As proud parent moments go there'd been none better than this so far. Boris simply sneezed in boredom, turned tail…and squirted.

The term 'marked man' had taken on new meaning. The warrior's partners took turns sniffing him and then fell to the ground howling with laughter…or what I assumed was laughter. In any case, they looked like they were having as much trouble containing their bladders as I was. Do vampires even have pee issues? Do I want to go down that road? Nope.

As the offended one took off through a hatchway and the other two clumsily tried to regain their dignity and get up off the ground, Boris brought his 'string' over to show me.

"That's great string, babe. You've earned it, you can keep it."

_Thanks._ He beamed. _And Mum? That was fun._

I swear the little bugger winked at me.


	2. Chapter 2

**A short hey to my best friend somewhere along the lines, in whose mobile phone I am saved as Bumbrain. I could not make this shit up. Also a little allusion to my all time favourite sci-fi show, Babylon 5.**

**Nine Twi-Lives** _by Sinvisigoth_

**Chapter Two**

**Bella Pov**

By the time my stomach was doing the hunka chunka with my spine I was fantasising about a previous offer of creepy crawly yumminess. My insidey bits were anyhow. Many brain things going on inside my head were not so keen. I wondered if perhaps my mouth was located in my stomach instead of my head the thinking part wouldn't bother me so much…and oh that is a mental picture we will not be revisiting. Eeuck.

_I keep telling you, Mum, once you get past the crunchy part…well there's more crunchy part…but the upside is it tastes kinda like mouse._

"Upside?"

_Well, you know that saying how absolutely everything tastes like mouse?_

"No."

_Really? Wow, I thought everyone knew that one. You went to school right?_

"You are seconds away from me trying to find out if you can digest one of those from the other end."

_Whoa, why so uptight?_

"Oh, I'm not the one who should be worrying about up or tight."

_It's 'cause you don't get enough mouse isn't it?_

"Boris!"

_OK, OK! One super deluxe Big Mac coming right up. Just close your eyes and don't think about how crunchy it is._

I swear he has a swagger that would rival Sean Connery's. Heading for an area behind the pipes where I can't see him is probably the safest option at the moment. Even with my hands behind my back he knows damn well I'm entirely capable of following through on my threat. Nimble toes run in my family.

Finally, I just give up. Banging my head against the cold floor took my mind off my stomach for a while. Until both parts started throbbing in tandem. Damn my body for ganging up on me like this. OK, stomach, if you're that intent on eating through my spine, for god's sake do it in the same place as the ropes.

I think the vamps have CCTV in here. I swear the stout one with the dreadlocks was smirking when he walked in with a plate of some kind of food. It looked good. And smelled even better.

Through a complicated jumble of grunts, nods and garbled French/English patois I came to understand that he was explaining that of all the cultures around the world, the dish we call Swedish meatballs is revered above all others. How he would know this when he probably couldn't remember what human food tasted like I didn't know. Whatever his reasoning, this was it, or these were they…whatever they were they were going in my tummy in ten seconds flat once the big lout had untied my hands. Once he had…errm…untied my…

"Dude. Hey! Where're you going? Hey! Hands!"

I looked at the plate in front of me and then at the grin on Boris' face. Then at the plate again. The plate on the floor.

"Oh penis."

_I…_

"One word, wide-load. Just. One. Word."

_will be taking my leave just about neeeeooooww!_

Oh well. Once he figured out it was a projectile of the meatball variety he'd been hit with he'd just eat it. By the time he was finished he wouldn't even remember. Elephants might have memories to match the size of their behinds; Boris just has the behind. Unless he's like those dinosaurs with a brain in the head and a brain in the bum. Seriously, though, what's a bumbrain for?

It took all the dignity, grace and balance I possessed not to fall into my meal. My spine was bent at an unnatural angle and my knees were spread in a kind of supersquat I wasn't sure my crotch would recover from. I saw a whisker twitch and growled.

"Dude they gave me a bucket of water and I'm sure they love a wet pussy as much as the next guy. Do not test me."

Looking at the food in front of me I suddenly had a very clear comprehension of why cats and dogs growl while they're eating. It's not jealousy or territorial behaviour, it's fucking humiliation!

I managed to get the first warm, fragrant morsel up my nose and had to head bang to some silent Mudvayne to get it out again. Never ate bogeys as a child, not starting now. And the next contestant is! Come on down Meatball Number Two! As it was, they were very good, the ones I got in my mouth. The growing pile of inedible ones soon outnumbered the ones that fit my hygiene criteria and I was forced to re-evaluate thoroughly.

Have you ever used your chin as a potato masher? It's tricky but if you get it juuuust so…THWACK…it works like a charm. Ok, so that one's a little nasal…SPLAT…and that one had a hair in it…BLAP…that one has a smudge of diesel…BLAM…that one looks like Mother Theresa…WHAP…and this one went wee wee wee all the way home.

I now had a pile of what looked to all intents and purposes like catfood. Boris tactfully eyed the bucket and said nothing.

When I had finished I felt a little less than…fresh. Bluntly put, my face was now a Bolognese palette fit only to be topped with mozzarella and grilled lightly under a low heat.

I struggled valiantly to my feet. I'd always been a champ when it came to apple bobbing and figured I could manage a wash in the bucket. A quick stagger, a semi pirouette and I smacked face first into the chest of the tall blonde vampire. An unsteady step back and a quick squint and he swam into focus.

Slap bang in the centre of his well defined chest was a perfect round face painted in Bolognese sauce. I must have had my eyes screwed shut while I was eating because there were just two round holes in the sauce where they must have been on impact.

I knew I shouldn't. It was possibly suicide, almost certainly torture, and no doubt also likely to relegate me to beetle-eater extraordinaire for the rest of my incarceration. The problem was…I just couldn't help myself. I leaned in close as he stood there amazed, and drew a smiley mouth on the face with my nose. I grinned up at him then fell on my ass and giggled like a ferret on acid until I had to cross my legs for the umpteenth time thus far.

He looked down at it. He looked at me. He looked down at it and skewed his head to one side. Then he looked at me with a distinctly chilly expression. Or so I thought.

"Have. A. Nice. Day." said the deep, husky voice, void of expression. His face remained a stoic mask as a ripple passed through his body. His lips twitched downwards a fraction of a millimetre and his brilliant green eyes bulged out about the same distance. The ripple came again, stronger this time, and was followed by a low pitched snort. Apparently, stoicism was not his preferred discipline. He fell on his ass a lot harder and soon we were rolling around on the floor laughing like a couple escapees from a home for the permanently baffled.

_Whoa, hold still URK hey kids play nice I ACK will you stay put so I can lick this stuff off?!_

Neither of us noticed the small furry object that had insinuated itself between us.

_WHEEEEEEEEEEP! Oh man that's gonna stain._


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry, had to switch chapters three and four around to keep to the timeline.**

**Nine Twi-Lives** _by Sinvisigoth_

**Chapter Three**

**Peter Pov**

All was not going to plan. Damsels were supposed to swoon or experience some sort of syndrome to do with their stockings or some such shite. There should be more swooning damnit! This lady seems a little more…deranged than I'd initially thought. Yes, I could still happily shag her seven ways from Sunday, but jebus I think she's brain damaged. For someone who'd been kidnapped by a handsome suitor she spent far too much time either cursing like a sailor or giggling like a mental patient on Nitrous Oxide.

She was currently holding a one sided conversation with the damn cat. The cat, for his part, managed to look both bored and sarcastic at once. This, as far as I was concerned, made perfect sense of the fact that cats were once worshipped in Ancient Egypt. Great appreciation of irony, the Egyptians. I mean, seriously, how could you have a half god, half human king who still had to wipe his backside with leaves and not harbour a deep and abiding sense of satire? It made perfect sense to worship something else that does fuck all for you and will allow you to turn yourself into its slave.

"Laurent. Why is she talking to the cat?"

"Je ne sais pas. Peut-être elle est un mutant." Laurent chewed thoughtfully on one of his greasy dreadlocks and my long forgotten gag reflex threatened to make an appearance.

"You know I wasn't joking the other day when I told you to stick your head in a combine harvester, right?"

"Putain." Laurent grinned.

"JE NE SUIS PAS UNE PUTAIN! JE N'AI PAS LE SEXE POUR L'ARGENT!" I grabbed Laurent by the knees and dunked his head repeatedly in a large tub of fish guts. It did very little to remove the stench of the cat piss from earlier.

He spluttered and hoiked several pieces of intestinal tract from his facial orifices.

"Gaylord." I grinned at him as he tried to insert what appeared to be part of a large haddock down my pants.

"Gay-putain." he responded with a giggle and a rush for the door.

I would have followed him but our guest was far too amusing to leave for very long. She had stopped chatting to the feline and was banging her head repeatedly on the floor. It made her tits bounce in a lovely fashion but I was wondering if I'd abducted someone with capabilities akin to The Hulk. Was she trying to work up enough anger to turn green and rip us all to shreds? Or was this some kind of plan to tunnel through the steel floor using her skull?

I meandered off to find Laurent. We needed to feed her and by 'we' I meant not me and not that idiot Jared. He was, for want of either brains or motivation, as useless and as superfluous as a wind powered cow moistener. The only reason I kept him around was because he never figured out that every time we played truth or dare we gave him the worst dares we could think of. Laurent still stared into space, sniggering, every once in a while as he remembered the time we dared Jared to dress up in drag and try to convince Carlisle to give him a rectal exam. Admittedly, when we said 'drag' we hadn't expected him to dress up as the Queen of England. To this day, Jared is still utterly convinced that if he had dressed up as Hilary Clinton instead, Carlisle wouldn't have refused.

"Go feed our guest you mad French bastard!" I hollered around the galley hatchway.

"I already make food, branleur. Go screw a goat."

I went off in search of a goat and left Laurent to take the vittals to Bella. Hopefully she would be in Hulk mode when he got there and rip his arms off. Or at least manage to wedge the bucket far enough down his throat to keep him quiet for a couple hours. Hey, I could dream.

By the time I got back to the engine room, Bella was rubbing her face in a plate of something that looked and smelled a bit like vomit. I assumed that she either didn't agree with me or the shock had effected her senses of taste and smell. I opened the hatch quietly and sneaked up behind her just as she staggered to her feet, legs spread painfully wide and looking like they might give at any moment.

She spun as I reached her and did a perfect faceplant on my chest.

'Eeeek! Human food! She got human food on me! Icky icky icky!' said my inner eight year old girl.

She stumbled back a step and looked in shock at her handiwork. Then a smirk of pure evil crossed her face. She leant forwards and wiped her nose across my chest. I didn't understand why until I looked down.

I clamped down quickly on the snort that threatened to escape. Jesus-tittyfucking-christ she was as mad as a box of frogs. A smiley face. A goddamn smiley face. On my chest. That is not what these gorgeous muscles are for, wench! I tried. I really did. Even as she was cackling on the floor like Woody the Woodpecker stuffed full of vibrating anal beads I tried.

"Have. A. Nice. Day." I managed to grind out without letting on that I was aching from holding the laughter in. The years I'd spent with Maria had gone a long way to teaching me how to school my face into a blank mask. But this was too much.

A silent chuckle ran through me. I felt my face twitch. Another silent chuckle and suddenly the laughter I'd been holding in burst through.

I joined her on the floor. Had I still been human I think I would have peed my pants just a little.

Ah shit. I think I just flattened the cat.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry, I had to switch around chapters three and four to keep the timeline accurate. Go back one to find the new chapter.**

**For those of you who've been reading with crossed legs and hoping that my heroine gets to the bathroom in time.**

**Nine Twi-Lives** _by Sinvisigoth_

**Chapter Four**

**Bella Pov**

I looked at the metal bucket thoughtfully. Initially I had viewed it as a much needed source of fresh water. After what I surmised was around three hours of being tied to myself and two bouts of enough giggling to ensure I would be hurting tomorrow, the intervals for which I could ignore the urge to pee were becoming shorter. My covetous bladder had mentally planted a small flag on the bucket and proclaimed it a sovereign kingdom.

This had to be planned with military precision. Pee with no regard for thirst later and you have a bucket of greatly diluted unusable waste; think about drinking the water too much and you pee before you get the chance to hover or even remove certain currently dry items of clothing.

This was, I felt, possibly what Aesop was getting at with his story of the chicken, the fox and the bag of grain.

_Chicken?_

"Shut up." I said to the pair of pricked ears.

_I was helping._

"OK then, I'll wait until the vamp with the sexy green eyes has looked through the porthole in the door and then I know I have about ten minutes without voyeurs."

_Ahem._

"You will be banished during said ten minute window."

_But I like sitting on your lap while you pee._

"One, no-one needs to know that. Ever. Two, you only like it because you're obsessed with the toilet flush. This is like the Matrix, OK? There is no flush."

_That's a bit harsh. I don't have anyone to play with here. You're not up to much and the beetles are too stupid to do anything really…tactical._

"What do you want them to do? Meander up to you and salute with their antennae before helping you invade Birmingham?"

_But couldn't you just make the noise with your_

"No."

_Oh._

I sat in contemplation of my master plan while Boris went off in search of thingies with lots of legs. I think there was some mention of teaching them to play RISK. I didn't have the heart to tell him that he'd never win Australasia from them.

With some rudimentary calculations I devised a pogo, swivel, triangulation formula which should work, where pogo equals no less than the square of the hypotenuse and swivel equals how much more urgent the need to pee became upon nearing the bucket. The triangulation of the legs was paramount and involved a probability of absolute zero when cubed with the difficulty ratio of removing jeans with no hands. This was where an inherent ability to mosh all night on only one bottle of coke came in. That and a promising looking hook on one of the engine turbines.

Reprising my elegant supersquat position to drink what water I could was less uncomfortable than the first time. I think one or two relatively unnecessary tendons may have become unglued, which accounted for my increased flexibility. The numbness seemed to be simply the result of my fervent and continued prayer to forgo pain for as long as possible.

Fat Butt simply cocked his head to the side…and kept on turning until it was upside down enough to look me in the eye. Yup. I knew he'd be impressed. Ha! He thought he was the only one who could get his head down here?

I couldn't manage much more than a litre and a half but as one of the corners of the room looked to be on a tilt I thought that if I tipped the bucket over I might be able to preserve at least some of it. Granted I might end up having to lap it up off the floor, but it was better than drinking out of the bucket après use.

I staggered to a semi standing position, balanced and nudged the bucket over with my foot. A small tidal wave rushed past me and sloshed straight into Boris.

_I. Will. Get. You. For. This._

Oops. Gravity's a bitch, huh?

_Oh really, you think?_

Guess I'll just have to use you as a squeegee like those marathon runners.

_!_ said his tail as it vanished around a corner.

His disappearance coincided nicely with my glimpse of Blondie peering at me through the glass in the door. I smiled and waved, hoping that it didn't mean 'come eat me' in sign language. Then again, with pecs like those…

Whoa…get your mind back on track, wench.

He tipped his head over like Boris had, wiped a little condensation off the window and then shrugged, withdrawing to wherever it was these guys went when they weren't harassing me. Honestly, what did I do to deserve being tied up and poked with vampires?

My ten minute window had started, though, and I needed to get a wriggle on…literally! First stop, detrousering my nether regions. With some rather inelegant manoeuvring I succeeded in docking my crotch with the jagged little hook on the engine and getting the zip in my jeans halfway down. I had to rub the waistband down a good couple inches against the wall but finally I felt a little give between it and me. I put Drowning Pool's 'Bodies' on the playlist in my head and started bopping up and down for all I was worth.

OK. Mid thigh wasn't mission objective but it would do. I wasted two minutes unzipping and the song was three and a half long so I only had…four and a half minutes to pee!

Oh god. This was it. I had the bucket in my sights. My bladder knew this and shortened my timeframe somewhat by gripping me from the inside out like a vice. I hitched my breath, tensed my calves and boinged towards the bucket with perfectly calculated precision.

This was the worst possible moment to hear the door whoosh open and six large feet traipse through it. Shit; I must have been listening to the extended version. I couldn't help looking over my shoulder to see as the owners of the feet line up just inside the door to gawp at my sprightly progression across the floor. My formula flew out the window, my feet collided at velocity and my ass twirled 180 degrees with ballerina like grace before depositing itself firmly in the bucket.

I looked at them. They looked at me. Each in turn they withdrew the swords hanging in scabbards mounted on their backs and took turns in poking me in a number of soft parts. Fucketyfuck. I should have known they'd hear me with that stupid vampire hearing. They grinned down at me, looking an awful lot like sharks whipping themselves up into a feeding frenzy. Their eyes darkened from dusky merlot to a bloody and midnight black.

'All the better to see you with, my dear.' an annoying voice from my childhood piped.

Oh fuckeration and jebus in a pink apron. I was wedged in a bucket at the mercy of three finely tuned predators. Not nice big fluffy-hippy free-love vegetarian vamps but the kind who thought I smelled and would therefore taste like a fine, forty year old claret.

The pee came now.

I was grateful of the bucket if not for the loud tinny noise my pee made as it hit the bottom.

The one with the missing dreadlock and scratch marks on his arms smelt the result of my endeavours and high tailed it out of the room as fast as his legs would carry him. Blondie AKA Pecs and his sidekick Creepy the Dumbpire simply looked at me in disgust and backed out slowly. I now had all the time in the world to figure out if I was upset that they had left me to deal with this on my own or thankful that they had left me without witnesses to _how_ I was going to deal with it.

I pogo'd a little ways towards the other side of the room until I realised that I'd forgotten to pray for more numbness.

"Ow! Ow! Owow! Whuuuurrp!"

I came to a standstill…or sitstill…on one side in the water that had drenched Boris only minutes earlier. I rolled over for leverage and succeeded only in making both sides of me soaking wet.

I really wanted to go home at this point and could think of only one thing that could possibly cheer me up.

"Hey babe I'm cold. How about you come out here and warm me up with those big thermal butt cheeks of yours?"

An indignant face peeked round from beside a large piece of ductwork.

_How's about I pee in your hair if you don't can the personal remarks? Did I laugh when you got your own oversized backside stuck in the bucket like a hippo in a fez?_

"Yes. I heard you."

_We'll pretend you didn't and go straight to the part where you view me with a kind of reverse anorexia. I am slim and sylphlike…your eyes are getting heavy…my sleek silhouette graces the covers of fashion magazines…you are getting sleepier and sleepier…I am broad of vision yet narrow of butt…_

"You are broad of delusion and blocking my view of the entire doorway with your narrow behind."

_Well, as soon as you've shoehorned your ass out of that bucket I'll be sure to run away in terror._

"We'll be talking about this more later. For now, though…scoot that pipe over here would you? I either need to break the seal on the vapour lock between me and the bucket or puff air into my ass like a set of bagpipes and blow myself out."

The door wheezed again and I looked up in horror to see that my captors had returned. With…cushions?

While I attempted to force one end of the pipe into the lip of the bucket, Boris and the three vamps settled down on one side of the room to watch the spectacle. I swear the big guys were passing around something that looked a hell of a lot like O-Neg snocones.

_Thanks, lads, but I'm sticking to an insect diet._


	5. Chapter 5

**Nine Twi-Lives** _by Sinvisigoth_

**Chapter Four**

**Bella Pov**

Normally, when Boris wanted to wake me to fulfil some purpose of his making, he would sit on my face until the lack of oxygen brought me out of whatever more pleasant realm my sleeping brain was inhabiting. With me sleeping off the shame of my bucket adventure laying face down in a corner, he simply bit my ass.

_Hey, Mum, I'm bored._

"Muffa wuh?"

_You 'wake?_

"Mmmmmmmm…no."

_I can help with that. You have more butt, I have sharp teeth. Wanna play joint the dots?_

"M'up, m'up!"

_Soooooooo…notice anything different?_

"Um…you had a hair cut?"

_You think I'd let one of these amateurs near my fluffy bits? I mean this whole…weird feeling. Like when I fall out of a tree but…bigger._

I looked around and realised that I was looking…down! At the ceiling! I clung to the floor for dear life and screwed both eyes shut. As usual my fervent attempts to escape reality were interrupted by a familiar voice.

_Hey Mum! I'm swimming! I'm swimming!_

I wasn't hanging on the floor any more and Boris was…well you must have seen those film clips of the frog in zero gravity those guys took up in the space shuttle. Like that but slightly less amphibian.

You'd be amazed what a temporary lack of gravity does to a butt that big. Normally it would spread out to cover whatever he was sitting on. Now it had a mind of its own and churned like a large thunder cloud filmed in time lapse.

The funnier part, however, was the way it pancaked with a loud plop! when the gravity came back again. Best guess, we were floundering through some pretty large waves.

_Urrrrrr. I think I need a transplant._

"Uh huh? Really? Well seeing as that's not an option can I ask the funboys driving this heap to get you anything?"

_Ice cream._

"Mmmpossible. What flavour?"

_Doesn't matter. It's for my ass._

A few minutes later and the door swung open with a whooshing noise. It was Blondie with the nice pecs again. He motioned to both of us and then jerked his head toward the door. Confused, as was the norm by now, I just looked at him. He purred at me and then nodded toward the exit again.

_I think he likes you._

"He watched me hoover my ass cheeks into and then out of a bucket. The latter part from a ringside seat with accompanying munchies."

_Well, yeah, but I don't think he'd have done that if he didn't like what he saw._

"Sitting around stuffing his face doesn't mean he wants to wear my ass as a hat, it means he most likely went without a lot of important things as a child and gets kicks out of the misery of others."

_You have no sense of adventure or romance do you?_

"You like him so much be my guest. With impressive muscles like that I'm sure you'll find him all the man you could ever want."

_You think he has nice muscles?_

"Shut up. I mean no. I mean shut up."

_Woohoo! You think he's seeeeexy you want to smoooooch him you like his booooooody!_

"As soon as I think of something suitably vicious to say in response to that I'll let you know."

Smug little fucker.

I turned and looked at the vampire.

"Would you please do me a favour and eat him?"

Blondie's eyes widened in horror and his long hair flew around his face as he shook his head adamantly. He pointed at my big assed boy and uttered just one word.

"God."

If there was anything worse than a smug cat it was a smug cat who'd just been deified. He trembled with ill contained delight.

I was never going to live this down.


	6. Chapter 6

**Nine Lives** _by Sinvisigoth_

**Chapter Six**

**Peter Pov**

I wasn't used to being lost in thought. It was…unnerving. Usually my mind functioned on the level of 'what can I do with this situation to make it funny?' or 'how can I fuck with this person's head?' or 'my balls itch; let's give them a good scratch.' The cat thing, though, that was giving me pause. Ha! I was so freaked out I was even punning. Not a good sign.

We were indestructible. Right? I mean, nothing was supposed to be able to hurt us. Nothing. And there's this ball of ass and well…ass that had to weigh all of seven kilos and it had managed to shred Laurent's arm and nick one of his greasy head bungees. Maybe the Egyptians had something with the whole cat-deity deal. Should I perhaps construct a small temple in his name? I could sacrifice a few helpless cheeseburgers in his honour. Or maybe I could toast Jared and sprinkle his ashes on the waves while wearing the ceremonial bra on my head and chanting to the cat god.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sudden tilting of the floor under my feet. An agonised grinding of metal on metal and then everything ceased moving. I had no problem staying upright but the fact that I was no longer perpendicular to the floor but standing on the wall led me to understand that Captain Crash and the crew of this piece of junk had attempted to dock the boat up the side of a skyscraper.

Hmmm. Time to go stuff the delectable human in a box. And if by any chance the universe is proving more merciful than I have found it to be in the last fifteen decades, she'll have been knocked unconscious and I'll get to play with her tits some before I giftwrap her for the journey.

**Bella Pov**

Rapt attention I think is the most appropriate phrase to use at this point. I had Boris' head gripped firmly between my knees, his little pink nose millimetres from my own larger pink nose.

"You do understand that they have put us in a box?" I asked.

_Uh huh._

"With no windows?"

_Yup._

"Nowhere to pee?"

_Mmm hmm._

"And no beetles?"

_WHAT?!?_

"You listening now?"

_Yes…but you're kinda scrunching my ears._

"If I let go will you keep listening?"

_Oh yeah. Uh huh. No beetles. I gotcha loud and clear._

I let him go and he shook his head so vigorously that he fell over. He recovered admirably and bounced back up into my field of vision.

_So…what's the plan?_

"Plan?"

_Yeah, like in the movies. You take the one on the left, the one on the right and the one in the middle and I'll…cover you?_

"With what!?"

_I was thinking along the lines of a projectile hairball followed by some well aimed running away._

"You leave me alone with those things and you'll never eat mouse again."

_Ah. Mouse or death mouse or death mouse or…umm…I'll take death._

"So are you ready to do something about the ropes yet?"

_Fuck you._

"!"

_Sorry. I have noooo idea where that came from. I think I'm naturally programmed to be unhelpful and selfish._

"Don't worry, I'm used to it." I sighed, my last hopes of being able to scratch the end of my own nose fading away. I amused myself for an unknown period of time by pressing my kneecaps against my closed eyes and counting the bright spots left behind when I took them away again. Having gotten accustomed to the darkness of the container we were in I could see a little and found that Boris took on a slightly psychedelic, haloed appearance whenever I glanced his way.

Boris, in his own inimitable fashion, whiled away the time by snorkelling in his nether regions like a sea lion with a grave mucosal problem. I tried to distract him by poking him with my toes but I have to say his concentration was quite impressive. I should have learnt by now never to distract a guy when he's sorting his bits out; all you get is an eyeful and a string of grunts. Still seeing Boris spots, I wondered if angels were ever seen in quite that position or engaged in that particular pursuit. I thought perhaps not.

That line of thinking got me wondering about just how…civilised…our captors truly were. Could I expect similar behaviour from them or were they socially advanced enough to have mastered the art of bathing with H2O instead of tongue? They obviously belonged to some kind of warrior coven but I had idea whether or not they were nomads as well. If the latter I really hoped I wouldn't be called upon to bathe anyone. If cats got furballs from licking themselves, what would one get by licking a six and a half foot vampire wearing enough leather to make Cher jealous? This possibility shut my mental processes down to the level of 'fire hot, sky pretty'.

And, ooh, bumping around hard on the butt cheeks.

Mine, not Boris'; he'd exhausted himself with his genital excavation and was snoozing through what Captain Crash and the crew must call a landing.

The fact that my box was dragged rather than carried gave me an inkling that I was not being taken somewhere to be made queen of their people, dressed in finery and fed grapes. I thought perhaps fed to the queen was more likely at this point. I wondered what I'd taste like. I practically live on fruit juice so I think I'd taste quite nice and oh my god why am I thinking this stopitstopit-thinkofsomethingelse--ohfuckthey'regonnaeatme.

This is not America.

That was my first thought on squinting out through the suddenly open side of the box. The medley of swarthy looking individuals and ghostly vampires led me to believe that we were somewhere on the other side of the planet in the bar from hell. The dead giveaway was the fact that they were all staring at my captors in stunned silence. The saloon doors were swinging metaphorically to and fro behind our asses and it is incumbent upon me to tell you that this kind of greeting is just as uncomfortable on this side of the world as our own. I think I'd like to be eaten now.

HEY ??!!????!???!!????!!???? ASSHOLE ???!?!???!!! was all I caught of what Pecs said to them, but "What the fuck are you looking at?" is pretty universal in any language. Nothing, appeared to be the unanimous response as the gawpers hurried in many directions.

I was pulled a little roughly out of the box while Boris was allowed to remain dreaming of mice and other things that scurry. Pecs dragged me around the bar and ignored my feeble attempts to dive headfirst into the cocktails held by most of the folks there. We stopped and he pointed.

My knees almost gave way and my belief in a rational universe simply crumbled to nothing. Before me was a stage. There were lights. There was a floating metal beetle which I'm guessing was the microphone and there was a screen with some strange language scrolling across it. He grabbed the stage's present occupier by the leg and hurled him halfway across the room, earning himself a round of applause at the same time. He pointed at the stage again.

"Sing."

"I'm sorry?!! You kidnapped me and my cat, hauled our asses halfway across the known universe, made me eat off the floor and watched me pee in a bucket just so I'd sing karaoke? Are you fucking kidding me?!"

He pointed to the other end of the room where the guy he'd pulled off the stage was being graciously helped onto a long spike over a fire pit.

"Bad song. Barbeque."

Oh cock it.

**Thanks to all of you who've taken the time to review so far. I really appreciate it and would love to hear from even more of you.**


	7. Chapter 7

**For anyone interested, my avi is a pic of the real Boris. He says thanks for the reviews and sends you all a large, mouse flavoured burp.**

**Nine Twi-Lives** _by Sinvisigoth_

**Chapter Seven**

**Bella Pov**

These vamps might have thought they were bad, cruel, even evil, but they didn't know what true torture was until now. Some simply looked frightened, others were backing away shaking their heads in pain and confusion. Those closest to me, the ones sitting at the bar, were grabbing small, scurrying creatures that looked like a cross between mice and cockroaches and stuffing them into their ears. It wasn't that I didn't have a natural concern about my own hideous death by barbeque, I simply had a spiteful stubborn streak that was much bigger. You want me to sing, I'll sing. But you'll be sooooooooorry.

Pecs, for his part, was sitting on the floor holding Boris against one ear and a small bar patron against the other. The bar patron was terrified and fainted every ninety seconds but Boris thought this was pretty great. He was used to my strangeness and simply amused himself by chewing his captor's ear, face, hair; you name it, it got chewed. I think this is what may have contributed to my early removal from the stage. If he'd left well enough alone, Pecs might have let me carry on until everyone else had died of burst eardrums. Unfortunately, having his sensitive bits gnawed on a by a being who was sixty percent butt and forty percent pointy bits was too distracting.

Ironically, it was only when he lifted me up by the scruff of the neck and my voice went up a strangled octave that someone's head actually did explode. This happened to be the vampire running the barbeque area. While I tried, outwardly, to look ashamed and sombre, on the inside some part of me pumped its fists vigorously in the air and did the happy dance.

Pecs swung me round, my feet about half a metre off the ground, and looked me in the eye with a low growl.

"What?" I squeaked. "That's how we sing where I come from!"

He just glared at me, one lip doing an admirable impression of Clint Eastwood's famous sneer.

"OK, I'm sorry I made everyone scream and that guy's head explode. I had no idea I had those kind of powers. Honestly!"

Pecs sighed, shrugged and looked somewhat defeated.

"Shit happens."

Oh Christ on a dildo I'm in a Forrest Gump crossover. Dude if you have a box of chocolates I'll love you forever.

At that point the guy that seemed to be in charge of the bar came over and mumbled something in as vicious a tone of voice it is possible to mumble something. The result of this was a swift punch to his head from Pecs and a large rag of dubious origins being stuffed in my mouth and tied behind my head. I had a feeling that this may have been one of the things that Boris had mentioned tasted of mouse.

I believe we are approaching the point where we came in.

_Hey, Mum, what are you eating that for? There's plenty of foo…oh._

"Mmmph. Muffwhmmph. OOOM."

_Well don't have a go at me; I was only having a bit of fun._

"FUU! Whm FUH! I OROOST OT AHEHOOH!"

_Well yeah, but I don't think his head's growing back so you should be safe there._

"………"

_I'm grounded when we get home aren't I?_

"!!!!!!!"

_Um. I'll get back to you on that one._

I watched his large butt sway haughtily off towards the bar, where he proceeded to scamper in between jars, glasses and bowls after the mouseroaches I'd seen earlier. I hoped that no-one mistook him for a particularly large and tasty snack. I rethought this and started hoping that no-one mistook me for a large and tasty snack; Boris had enough pointy bits to defend himself. My only weapon had been stuffed with what I was coming to believe may have been part of someone's loincloth in the not too distant past.

These thoughts were cut off with a sharp mental URK! as Pecs flung himself onto a large comfy chair and dragged me onto his lap. Trust me, rigor mortis is not something that only the dead enjoy. Every single muscle in my body was frozen stiff and my mind was desperately trying to eliminate words like 'loincloth', 'stiff' and 'lap' from its currently limited vocabulary.

A large hand pulled me roughly against the chest of a being that had so far incarcerated me, watched me pee and held me up by my neck. The other hand grabbed the top of my head and turned my face towards the present entertainment. An hysterical giggle managed to escape the confines of the penis-covering inhabiting my mouth.

Pole dancing vampires. Male ones. In leather bikinis.

I feel that this was not what Wyclef Jean had in mind.


	8. Chapter 8

**Nine Lives** _by Sinvisigoth_

**Chapter Eight**

**Peter Pov**

My plan is more or less back on track now. My ass is gripped by the sensuous cushions of one of the clubs famous comfy chairs, there's a cute girl balancing on my cock and I'm watching a strip show. That said, the gender of the strippers was most definitely NOT my idea. Getting Jared to join in must have been Laurent's idea because none of the fucking sexy naked ladies are in sight tonight. Speak of the devil.

"Où est la vadge?" Laurent's eyes bulged as he settled into the chair next to me.

Hmmm. Perhaps it wasn't his idea. I glanced over to the audience, following with some degree of accuracy the direction of Jared's pelvic thrusts, and found myself looking at a short and hairy gypsy of dubious femininity. Well shit on a stick. Jared managed to have a whole idea by himself. His reasons were a bit gagworthy – I wasn't sure if he had designs on the Romany version of Shrek or if he was trying to either cover his bar bill or get out of a bad bet by shaking his ass – but I was impressed with his motivation. If he was going to put in the effort, I might as well take the time to be entertained. I may even throw a barmaid at his head if he can manage to do the splits.

I sat back, grabbed Titselina and yanked her close to me. I helpfully turned her in the right direction so she could fully enjoy our evening of dance and merriment.

**Bella Pov**

I could have held out longer, honestly I could. If it hadn't been for the finale. Apparently the appropriate thing to do when the pole dancers end their act for the night is to stamp a foot or slap a thigh in a rugged and manly yet sober and dignified manner. Squealing like a punctured pig being tickled with a kazoo is one of the less appropriate responses. Or so I was led to believe by the foot on my throat. If they'd bowed or given a victory salute or even done the Snoopy dance in conclusion I could have kept it in. It was the curtsey. I was lost after that. As was my tenuous grasp on consciousness after a large hand descended towards my face in awesome and deadly slow motion.

**************

It was, by any standards I could reasonably expect to be afforded, a very nice cupboard.

_It's dark in here isn't it?_

There was oxygen. That was a plus.

_I can't see my tail._

The smell was…something of a challenge. Like someone had studied for many years to achieve contortionist status only to be able to rub their crotch with their own armpit and market it as a perfume.

_What am I supposed to play with if I can't see my tail?_

I wished at this moment that I were simply inflicted with the most heinous and debilitating of imaginary friends. Unfortunately, not even I could imagine a friend with an ass that big.

"Why don't you try being quiet? I hear it's good for your waistline."

_Ermmm…being quiet makes you lose weight?_

"No. Being quiet makes you less dead."

_You'd like me to shut up then?_

"You think?"

_Couldn't I just…_

"No."

_Really? Coz I thought that…_

"Nuh uh."

_Not even if I…_

"No."

_With a…_

"Not even then."

_I'll just sit in the corner then._

"The size of your ass makes sitting in only one corner at a time impossible."

_That hurt my feelings._

"You don't have feelings; you have cravings."

_Now that you mention it I could really go for a…_

"We don't have any."

_You don't know what I was going to say._

"It involves a McRib sandwich."

_Oh._

_Maybe if we pretended…_

"Nope."

_But last time we…_

"We agreed to never mention that again."

_Oh. Because of the…_

"Yup."

_So…that's not actually where you're meant to put…_

"No."

_I did wonder about some of the noises._

"I was concentrating."

_But when I do it you take me to the vet._

"That's different. I'm not supposed to be able to bend that far."

_Aaaaaaaaah. Gotcha._

Light of the unwelcome variety swept across our numb and incoherent forms as the cupboard door swung open. My surroundings now being illuminated I tried not to grasp the realisation that I was in his underwear closet. The large codpiece swinging majestically in my face made this very difficult.

I glanced out of the door and suddenly wished like never before that there were a coat hangar to hand so that I at least had something appropriate with which to gouge out my eyes.

Pecs pressed a button on a remote and the enormous bed began to vibrate like a hula dancer shagging a pneumatic drill. He raised one eyebrow in what I could only assume he thought was a suggestive manner but which made him look like a startled bush baby on botox. I doubled over in hysteria and previously well contained wee threatened to make its presence known.

As a wise man once said, there's always time for lubricant.

_Mum?_

"Uh."

_Did you order room service?_

"Blee?"

_I think he brought you a baguette._

"Eeeep!"

_Oh.._

" "

_I'm guessing he never made that special trip to the vet that you made me do huh?_

"Nurp."

_You might want to close your mouth…just in case he thinks you're…ermmm…into his sandwich…_

My mouth shut with a loud plopping sound. There were many times in my life during which I'd wished fervently for a natural catastrophe, my date with what turned out to be a hermaphrodite being only one of them. How was I supposed to know that being caught trying to figure out the logistics with a doughnut and a hot dog sausage would be viewed as insulting? None of my previous experiences seemed to measure up, however, when faced with the leaning tower of penis I was now unable to look away from.

What does one do in this situation? Ask if he wants a game of baseball seeing as he's already got the bat ready? Offer to decorate it? It was big enough that back home during Easter it would have been bedecked with ribbons and danced around by gaily painted children. For now, though, it was my nemesis. A large, sparkly nemesis. Which wobbled. My neck muscles were getting sore from keeping up with the vertical oscillations. Those optical illusions that get you to stare at one spot and then close your eyes had nothing on this. When I closed my eyes I had a pixel-perfect negative image of a cross between a bratwurst and a slinky seared into my retinas.

In my previous life I might have been hesitant. Now, I was strong, I was single minded, I was a goddamn warrior queen of decisiveness. I was…hiding in a cupboard. I glanced at Boris. I never had to worry about moral support; my lovely, big-assed boy could always be counted on to…lick his nether regions in a time of crisis.

"Hey!"

_What?_

"?!!!! A little support would be appreciated here."

_Do you know how long it's taken me to get the nachos out of my butt hair? Oh no, that's right, someone was too busy watching a bunch of manwhores hump the stage to worry about the state of my fro._

"Dude that was way harsh."

_Them's the breaks bellybean. Now, either find me a set of tongs or go appreciate his livestock loverod a little closer._

"I did not bring you up to speak to me this way!"

_Talk to the hand._ He plinked a dainty paw on my nose. _Talk to it!_

I glanced back at Pecs. His patience seemed to be wearing a little thin. Although it was the only thing that was. Without the use of his hands he described several impatient, circular gestures in the air. For some reason my mind skipped gleefully over high school math equations for translating diameter into circumference. Time to see if I was up to handling a little pi.

He smirked at me and my brain did something odd. It started putting stuff together. Cogs turned. Rusted and disused gears clanked and rattled as my mental processes mimed a fair approximation of basic reasoning and ambled toward a terrible conclusion.

It all fell into place with alarming clarity.

"It was a date." I muttered to myself. The music, the lap, the…gag?

"That was a frigging date?!" I turned my wrath towards Pecs. "What the fuck asshole?!"

He growled at me.

"Don't take that tone with me." I was mortified that I growled in much the same way as a dormouse roars. " You imprisoned, mocked and…ermmm…mocked me! All for the sake of taking me on a date to the karaoke bar at the assend of the universe! WHY!?!"

Pecs smirked again and made impressive cupping motions in front of his chest.

"Ah. Well, yes. They are" I glanced downward "rather spectacular. But that's no excuse!" I pointed my finger at him in what I hoped was a malevolent and dangerous manner. The fact that he was pointing back at me with a genital cathedral nullified my efforts for the most part. If he expected me to be worshipping at it any time soon he was going to be sorely disappointed.

I cursed my encyclopaedic brain for instantly dredging up all possible meanings of the word 'sore' at this point. I thought it was something of an understatement, anyway; 'death by willy' seemed far more apt.

I tried to ignore the fact that Boris, multitasking with military precision as he snorkelled in his fluffy bits, was humming a lusty rendition of 'I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts'. He looked up at me for a second with an unexpectedly compassionate expression.

_Don't worry, Mum. Everything'll be OK._

"Thanks , babe. I appreciate that."

He continued to stare at me, fighting some kind of internal battle and eventually losing the ability to keep a straight face.

_Um. Actually…I was just trying to butter you up so I could have your green sweater in case he dumps you in a garbage truck when he's finished._

"You exist in a total moral vacuum, don't you?"

_I'm a lying little bastard. I know that. But who else is gonna sit on your head while you're asleep and fend off the evil hoards of creepy crawlies?_

"You have a point. It's an evil and sociopathic point, but a point nonetheless. Have you thought about politics?"

_Well, it is the second oldest profession in the world. But it resembles the first far too closely for my liking. If I were to give up my life of leisure for any vocation it would probably be as a gangsta rapper._

"?"

_I like big butts._

"If that was aimed at me I think it was a little below the belt."

_Of course it was. Above the belt and you're talking one motherfucker of a muffintop._

I calmly picked him up and shoved him headfirst down the codpiece hanging from the wall beside us.

_Whurrp. UM! MM hrry! Ll shup uh prms!_

I smiled serenely and turned back to the large flesh hydrant sitting on the bed. Time to apply my advanced and powerful brain to the problem at hand.

For some reason my advanced and powerful brain refused to stop looping the pottery scene from Ghost.


End file.
